Thunderstorms and the Making of Love
by fuzzyfirebunny
Summary: ONE SHOT! Brennan gets stuck at the lab, while a severe storm rages on outside. Who would come to rescue her, but Booth in shining FBI standard-issue body armor? I suck at summaries...


**Disclaimer: Bones characters are not mine. Unfortunately. Otherwise something like this would happen. SOON.**

**Anyways, this is my first one-shot, something out of the blue that I decided to write on a whim one day. :) Enjoy! And please, reviews make me giddy. And they turn on my muse too :)

* * *

**

It was the little things that always got to her. Like the way he held the car door open for her before getting in himself, the way he always pushed the last carton of takeout towards her side of the table, the way his eyes sparkled with laughter whenever she misunderstood a popular reference or colloquialism.

"Brennan? Brennan! Hellooo…earth to Brennan!" Angela waved a perfectly manicured hand in front of her best friend's face, sighing with exasperation.

"Huh? Oh! Ange, I'm sorry, I must have gotten distracted," Brennan apologized, focusing her eyes back down to the remains on the lab table.

"Of course," Angela said, with a sly smile. "It wouldn't have to do with a certain FBI Agent now, would it?"

"Don't be absurd, Angela. Andrew and I broke up weeks ago."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Come on sweetie. You know I wasn't talking about Andrew."

Brennan's expression never changed as she took a cotton swab and began cleaning an indenture in the skull. "Who, then? Booth?"

"You say it like it's such a surprise," Angela huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't deny the obvious, Bren."

Brennan opened her mouth to retort, but never got the chance, because at that moment, Hodgins and Cam ran in, soaking wet from head to toe.

"Jeez! What happened to you guys?" Angela exclaimed, momentarily distracted from her previous line of inquiry.

Hodgins moved towards his girlfriend for a hug, but she backed away. "Nuh-uh, no way, not happening. I love you, but there's no way you're touching me until you change your clothes."

"How about I just discard the ones I'm wearing?" Hodgins asked mischievously, wiping ice from his beard.

"And, that's where we stop," Cam injected, managing to sound authoritative despite her shivers from head to toe. "I came to warn you two, there's a huge hailstorm happening. Rain, ice, maybe even a bit of snow." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "I suggest you head home as soon as possible."

"I can't," Brennan stated matter-of-factly, placing the skull gently back down on the illuminated table. "Booth is supposed to arrive in approximately half an hour and give me the case file." She indicated the corpse in front of her.

Cam gave her a look. "I'm sure Booth will understand the importance of you getting home without turning into a popsicle," she replied, just as matter-of-factly.

"Oh no, here comes the literal interpretation," Angela grumbled.

"Actually, Cam, it's impossible for the carbon-based human body to—"

"Figure of speech, Dr. Brennan, figure of speech," Cam said with a quirky smile. "In all seriousness though, you guys need to get home ASAP. No objections. Got it?"

Angela nodded and went to grab her coat. "Promise me you'll leave soon, okay sweetie?" she asked as she passed Brennan.

"As soon as I'm done," Brennan replied, picking up the victim's left humerus. "Drive safe, Ange."

**A few hours later…**

Brennan placed the last shard of bone back down on the examination table, resisting the urge to wipe at her tired eyes with a gloved hand. The lab was completely silent, the lights all dimmed except for the ones above the table. She had never been one to quake at darkness, or even solitariness, but Brennan shivered involuntarily.

She quickly washed her hands, cleaned up, and walked briskly to her office. As she grabbed her coat, Brennan caught a glimpse of the clock—5:45. She'd been here for nearly three hours, working on the remains.

Then she remembered: why hadn't Booth come yet? Brennan hit his speed dial on her phone, her mind running through all the rational possibilities for why he hadn't come.

"Booth," came the voice from the other end.

"Booth, it's me, Brennan. Did you forget that you were supposed to stop by and give me the case file this afternoon?"

There was a pause as Booth processed that information. Then—"Shit, Bones! Cam told me she had told everyone to leave because of the storm. You know they were issuing severe thunderstorm warnings for all of the D.C. area, right?"

"I know, but I needed to stay and finish my work," Brennan informed him. "You can just give the file to me tomorrow, Booth."

"Please tell me you're hailing a taxi."

"Why would I? I can drive, you know. And I have a car parked in the parking structure," Brennan contradicted, checking that her keys were still in her coat pocket.

"Who do you think I am, Bones? There's no way I'm letting my partner drive in this weather," Booth said protectively. "Either you take a cab, or I'll come and pick you up myself."

Brennan gave a short laugh. "That's completely unnecessary, Booth. What makes you think your driving is any safer than mine in this weather?"

"I'm the one with the gun in this relationship, remember? And I've seen how you drive, Bones," Booth replied. "Wait there for about fifteen minutes; I'll be over as soon as I can."

"No, Booth, I really don't need—" Brennan realized after a few seconds that she was talking to an empty dial tone. With a groan of frustration, she clicked her phone shut and sat down on an empty couch to wait.

Exactly fourteen and a half minutes later, Booth strode into the Medicolegal Jeffersonian lab, ready to tell Brennan exactly what he thought of her staying in a museum lab, by herself, while a storm raged on outside. But before he could get the words out of his lips, he saw her—she had fallen asleep in a curled position, her back against the cushions of the couch.

Booth stood there for several minutes, just studying his partner. Her face looked softer when she slept, the sharp angles smoothed out into peaceful lines. She looked…vulnerable, completely different from the capable Bones he knew. _But no less beautiful_, he thought, a powerful feeling of tenderness overtaking him. It wasn't a new feeling, either. He felt it every time she placed herself in the front lines of a violent case, every time she traveled to some war-ridden country on one of those damn expeditions of hers.

He had known it since the first time he had seen her face and known that the independent, headstrong Dr. Temperance Brennan would be his partner. And just like that first time, he was still swept up in her beauty, of how much he loved her.

She stretched in her sleep, conscious that someone was watching her. Brennan blinked several times, and then looked up into the unreadable grey eyes of her partner. "Booth? When did you get here?"

"Just now," he lied, extending a hand to help her sit upright. "You ready to go, Bones?"

"Yeah," she said. "Although I feel inclined to inform you that all this—" she waved her arms in a disgusted motion "—was completely unnecessary."

"Well, this way, if you get into an accident, you'll get insurance," Booth quipped, leading her out of the lab.

Brennan shivered as the first flicks of hail struck her face, flying with enough force to leave small red welts against her skin. It was almost enough to distract her from the sub-zero temperatures outside—almost.

"See, Bones? _This _is why you go home before the storm starts," Booth grunted, helping her into the car and then starting the ignition.

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Brenna spoke up. "Thanks for coming to get me, Booth."

"You're welcome," he answered quietly, maneuvering the car slowly through the icy roads.

"This weather is cold enough to freeze over Purgatory," Brennan commented, proud of herself for incorporating a popular colloquialism into her speech. She grinned.

Booth chuckled. "Jeez, Bones, how do you get that one wrong? The expression is freeze over hell. Not Purgatory."

Brennan frowned. "But isn't hell by definition a place of fire and brimstone? How can that freeze over?"

Booth sighed. "Nevermind."

After the slowest drive they had ever taken, Booth and Brennan arrived at her apartment. The storm had only gotten worse, Brennan noted, as she unfastened her seat belt.

"Do you want to come up for a while? It's too dangerous to drive right now," she offered, grabbing her purse.

"Sure," Booth agreed gratefully, and followed her up the flights of stairs.

The first thing he noticed was that her apartment was freezing. "Do you not turn on the heat, Bones?!"

"I turn it off while I'm at work," Brennan explained, taking off her coat and hanging it up in the closet. "It conserves energy. Besides, this apartment is small enough that heating it up again is a matter of minutes."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you leave the coffee machine on all day?"

"Well, of course," Brennan said, her mouth twitching. "Coffee is a necessity. Heat is, well, desirable."

"I will never get the way your priorities work," Booth said, rolling his eyes as he went to pour himself a cup.

"Here, I'll go grab some blankets, and we can sit and watch something on TV," Brennan suggested, disappearing into the bedroom. Moments later, she re-emerged, two thick comforters in her arms.

"Hey look, the game is on!" Booth beamed, flipping to the sports channel. Now it was Brennan's turn to roll her eyes as she untangled herself from the mass of blankets, heading to her bookshelf to grab the latest issue of _Anthropology Uncovered_.

The warmth slowly seeped into her bones (no pun intended) as Brennan relaxed on the couch, the curve of her body fitting perfectly into Booth's. She heard him swallow beside her, then tentatively move his arm to rest against her shoulders. Her heart began to pound (a result of dopamine, she told herself firmly, but couldn't quite stop the nervous butterflies that quickened her breathing).

"Thanks for letting me stay, Bones," Booth said softly, his lips against her hair. She smelled like fragrant shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine. It was unique, just like her.

"You're welcome, Booth." Brennan turned her head so that she was looking up at him. It was the closest they'd been since that night at the museum a few weeks ago, when their lips had nearly met. Hesitation and social decorum had stopped them then. But now…

Brennan barely had time to think as Booth closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes as she took in his taste, wrapping her arms around his muscular frame as he deepened the kiss.

Hours later, the storm had stopped, but they still lay intertwined on the couch, the game playing unheeded in the background. There was nothing but each other, two partners, savoring the little things that had been there all along.

* * *

**Sorry, I may or may not suck at writing makeout scenes :P Anyways. Review! Please! Hit that little button! :)**


End file.
